


Shared Poetry and Shattered Certainty

by LoveThemFiercely



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AWOL, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Arrogance, Comfort/Angst, D'Qar, Drunkenness, F/M, Falling In Love, Galactic Expansion, Guilt, Healing, It's Pronounced Poetry Of Course, Memories, POV Multiple, POV Poe Dameron, Pilot Poe Dameron, Pilots, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Poetree Friendship, Poetry, Redeemed Poe Dameron, Slow Burn, This Story Emerged Poems First, Unrequited Love, Yavin 4, bomberpilot, commpilot, really slow burn, snowgrape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-04 22:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveThemFiercely/pseuds/LoveThemFiercely
Summary: I was asked to redeem Poe Dameron by a friend who was VERY angry with him after the bombing run.  Pilots, like surgeons, have to be arrogant and sure to do their jobs.  And they have to keep being arrogant and sure even after they're wrong.  But eventually the cost has to be felt.  And there's no one more unsure than someone who was once very, very certain.  I love the Force-Sensitive tree planted in a place where no Sensitives live.  I love the idea of an object usually inanimate, possessed of feelings and awareness, watching over her boy.  I love Shara and Kes and their love story.  And last, I love playing with the idea of familiar things from home, and how they might make people feel.Hey, there was more.  Okay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flypaper_brain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flypaper_brain/gifts).



Poe was drunk. He knew this. He even knew that he was very, very, drunk. But he still wasn’t nearly drunk enough. He thought maybe that wasn’t possible in this case.

She was gone. Not far away, not on a mission, not angry with him or out of reach, but GONE. There was no way to apologize. There was no way to change her fate or find her or make it better.

He wasn’t even really sure why he was here. He hadn’t consciously set a course when he’d started this trip. Like he’d wanted to get lost and not be found for a very long time. But he guessed he’d made so many trips home that his fingers knew the coordinates by heart. So he’d found himself breaking out of hyperspace above Yavin 4 and known he was going home. Home felt like comfort, and that was something he badly needed right now.

But when he’d set down and opened the door, he’d found himself alone in an empty house. That’s right. Dad was off visiting friends, a visit he’d helped arrange himself when they became afraid that Yavin 4 would be targeted because of its history. The furniture was covered and the cupboards were mostly bare. That was okay. It wasn’t as though he felt much like eating.

He’d been...what had he been doing? It didn’t matter. It was all a muddle anyway; the destruction of Starkiller base, the mutiny, his disgrace and demotion, and no....his mind shied away from the bombing run on the Fulminatrix. Which is exactly what he’d started thinking about when he felt the tears starting. He’d just picked the oldest, least useful ship he could find that still had a hyperdrive and had flown off in her, as though he could outfly the pain, and he’d ended up here.

And then he’d remembered his father’s short-lived attempts at koyo-fruit brandy. They had been terrible; everyone who’d sampled them agreed. Eventually they’d been relegated to the hangar and used to clean engine parts. But when he went to check, he’d found that a few dusty bottles remained. They would do. He didn’t much care about the taste right now.

He couldn’t stand the empty house. It made him think about other empty places. His fault. General Organa’s accusing eyes filled his memory. But he’d been so SURE. He’d KNOWN, like he knew a pilot’s console, like he knew the paths on these grounds, that his plan was the best way to keep everyone safe, to WIN. And he’d been wrong. So he sat and drank terrible brandy, his mind filled with her face. Paige. He hadn’t counted the cost when he’d thought about how sweet victory would be.

His mother had never wanted to tell her stories. But he’d heard them anyway. Old friends like to get together, and pilots loved to talk. So he’d known she was a hero...they both were, Mom and Dad. They’d been heroes together. And he’d KNOWN. Even as a little kid, he’d known he wanted to be like them; his gallant, beautiful mother and his serious, methodical father. He’d wanted a story like theirs and someone to share it with when their work was done.

He stared at the tools in their neat rows, and remembered another time he’d just known.

…

He was staring again. He hoped she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe he hoped she had. If she noticed him staring it could be the best thing that ever happened to him. Or the worst. Damn it.

But how could he not stare? That long, aristocratic face. Those gorgeous brown eyes. And she made a flight suit look good. He’d asked around. Her story was just as beautiful as her eyes. She’d managed to get herself and her kid sister out of the Otomok system. Together. And he’d heard the talk about what a hellhole that place had become. So she was brave, too. And he’d just known. He’d known that she was strong and wonderful and he wanted to be a hero with her. He was sure.

 

…

Certainty was important for a pilot. He’d always thought so. You had to be SURE about where you were firing, sure you were the best person to be in the cockpit, sure that you had the skills and the timing. You had to be confident enough to take that crazy job in the first place and sure that it was the thing in the world that you most wanted to do. All his heroes were pilots, and when they told their stories, they were full of “I dropped it right in the sweet spot” and “I just cruised right through that little gap between Star Destroyers and nailed them on the way back around” and “I used to bullseye womp rats in my T-16 back home. They're not much bigger than two meters” (that casual statement was legendary in its arrogance; a brand-new, then unknown pilot telling his more experienced fellow pilots that shot would be easy). If you doubted yourself, you would freeze. And in ship to ship combat or a bombing run, freezing was lethal.

And he’d been absolutely certain that the best way to protect the evacuees was to take out the Fulminatrix. He’d known how good he was; he knew how good the bombers were, and he’d known down to the marrow of his bones that those transports full of people would have been doomed; blown to space debris, the last light of the Resistance ground under the boot of the First Order. He’d been sure that he could stand over them, between them and danger. But he hadn’t counted the cost. General Organa had said that, over and over. Always count the cost. Hell, half the time he’d figured she was talking about damaged craft and wastage. He hadn’t understood then.

And now he knew. He hadn’t had time to think about it until now; things had happened too fast and he’d had to keep being certain, because if you stopped being sure you couldn’t move at all. Every move he’d made, he’d known it was the best and only way. But now, with some time to think and some distance to consider, he understood that he’d been wrong. He was counting the cost now, and it was too high. Nix, Finch, Edon, Teene, Spennie...he was ashamed to admit he didn’t know every name. That was something he was going to fix. And Paige. Who’d counted her own cost as nothing against the success of her mission. It turned out her value couldn’t be measured. But it could be felt.

He wandered the grounds without any real purpose or destination. He was really only stumbling around the place because sitting still didn’t occupy enough of his brain to keep him from thinking. And feeling. He passed his mother’s greenhouse, shuttered since her death. She had taken great delight in her attempts to cultivate the bioluminescent orchids native here, even if they were not always successful. He remembered one of the years she’d managed to get several of them to bloom at once; he’d been small, but he could still recall the sense of wonder, like she’d gathered the stars in a lantern and brought them into their back yard. When he’d begun to realize how he felt about Paige and wondered how she might feel in return, that memory had come back to him. That same sense of wonder.

…

He was lounging in a carefully casual way against the hangar wall when she came in to pick up her gear. It hadn’t been easy getting an orchid all the way here. He might or might not have hacked his way through some jungle and climbed a tree on Yavin 4, and nursed the potted orchid anxiously on the way back with the ship’s heater turned up to an uncomfortable temperature just to see the look on her face when she opened her gear bag. It had been worth it.

He’d stayed long enough to see her, mouth open, eyebrows raised, face shining in the blue light coming from the bag. He was sure about how he felt, but when it came to what she might feel, he was utterly without certainty. He’d ducked his head as she looked around to see what kind of demented flower bandit had added this plant to her gear, then hurried off before she could spot him. He remembered thinking he was really losing his mind here. His hand had gone to his mother’s wedding ring on the chain around his neck without his conscious volition. Just as it was doing now.

…

Blind to everything but his memories, he wasn’t paying attention to where he put his feet. Which accounted (well, that and the brandy) for his tripping and falling at the end of the path. He might have actually been walking with his eyes closed. He reached out for any way to catch himself and felt bark beneath his fingers. Oh. He’d reached the tree. THE tree. The one his mother and Master Skywalker had gone to save, at great risk to themselves, because they thought it was important in all the struggle and danger to reach for life. She’d been there all his life, this tree. He’d told her his secrets, climbed her, pretended the hollows in her roots were secret caves. And now she was supporting him as he laid his head against her rough and faintly glowing bark. The one thing in his life that wouldn’t leave him.

 

…

He’d returned, her boy. She wasn’t sure how long it had been. Time didn’t matter to her. Just wind, and water, and soil, and the warm presence in the Force of those she loved. She knew he wasn’t there as often now. That was okay. It was the nature of fleeting ones to grow and split from the place where they had been planted. But what was this? His light was dim. Her boy, her brash, beautiful boy, who never doubted, who made mistakes but always burned with clear intent, was darkened. Muffled. She knew this dimming. She *remembered*. Her boy and her man had both dimmed when She Who Planted went away, her spark joining the greater light. This seemed worse somehow. Why? She looked more closely, reaching out with her trunk and roots and heartwood. Oh. He thought he’d snuffed a spark. Many sparks, bright and dim, and one whose light lingered in his mind. His doing, he thought.

She wished more now than ever before that he could understand her. None of her loves could hear her. They were connected, of course, as everything was; they walked her earth, they laid loving hands on her trunk and branches, they even talked to her. And they were all part of the great Force. But they couldn’t hear or speak in her way.

They’d grown together, she and her boy. She had to find a way to help him through this lightning strike of pain. So he could continue to grow. She wanted to tell him that it was all right. That she still loved him. Everyone made mistakes. When you were a sapling, it didn’t matter if you dropped a branch in the wrong place. Nothing changed. But when you’d grown, when your roots were stronger and your trunk was taller and you had the weight of years behind you, what happened to you happened to others too. Your carelessly dropped deadwood could damage, or harm, or even kill. She thought it was easier to love someone who’d made mistakes. They understood loss, like new leaves put out too soon and lost to the first frost, and it made them cherish what remained.

...

He’d had to tell someone about the hope he cherished. It wasn’t hard to decide, when it came down to it. He trusted C’ai Threnalli implicitly; he had to, really, you trusted your wingman with your life every mission. But it wasn’t just that. C’ai was steadier than most pilots. And he had one of those faces. It was a wise face. Reminded him of Uncle L’ulo. Like you could tell him anything. And as an entirely separate consideration, C’ai was always forgetting his translator, so on the off chance he didn’t remember to keep this between them, half the time Poe was the only one who understood most of what he was saying anyway. That made him smile for a moment, despite himself. C’ai had listened patiently, then asked Poe if he’d thought about actually speaking to the object of his affections. A radical plan, he said, chuckling, but then Poe was a radical plan sort of guy.

Confidence boosted, Poe put this plan into action. He’d asked Paige about her pendant the very next time they had a moment together. She’d told him about the snowgrapes that grew on Hays Minor, how she’d loved the tart fruit and the spicy-sweet smell of the flowers. It was a snowgrape flower on her pendant, she’d said. She’d smiled then, and told him that she’d found a box of snowgrape flower-scented soap in her locker and was mortified and pleased to discover that it was from General Organa herself. Apparently, she’d heard Paige and Rose talking about how much they missed the smell of the flowers every spring. Poe knew General Organa made it a habit to walk the vessels every once in a while, listening to the pilots and mechanics and bombers and medics talk, taking the pulse of her people like a General and a Princess should. There’d been a note in the box. It just said “Everyone deserves something that reminds them of home. -L.”

Paige’s face had grown sad at that; at the thought of home, he guessed. He couldn’t begin to imagine not being able to go home, to see and hear and feel the familiar things that had made you who you were. So he’d just held her. For once, he hadn’t known what to say. And she was right. It didn’t say home to him, of course. But the sweet, spicy smell of the soap she’d used to wash her hair WAS beautiful. And completely Paige.

…

The scent in his memory blended into the familiar smell of koyo-fruit, carried on the breeze. Some of the early fruit must already have fallen. You had to be careful harvesting those; not too soon, not too late, not too fast, not too slow. He smiled again, remembering the year he hadn’t quite been careful enough.

Harvesting was boring. The koyo-picker was so SLOW. So he’d found himself a pair of old pod-racer engines. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He’d been ten years old, after all. He’d done some dicey wiring and rigged the engines to the old picker, picturing himself zooming through the groves, done with the picking in half the time or less, the hero of harvest season, a fruit-gathering flyboy.

Yeah, that hadn’t gone well. When he started up the engines he’d failed to notice they were pointed right at her. The tree. But he had smelled her beginning to burn, and worse, seen his father running from the house waving his hands at Poe to STOP, CUT THE ENGINES. Dad had been livid. He’d told Poe to undo his hasty wiring job and meet him in the house. By the time he was finished, Dad was calm, which made the dressing-down worse. He’d patiently explained, face filled with disappointment, that Poe needed to think about who or what might get hurt whenever he felt like he needed to be clever. That it was more important to be kind and careful sometimes than it was to be brilliant. How could he have forgotten that lesson? Just to make sure that one sank in for Poe, Dad had set him to nursing her back to health. For a YEAR. Eternity to his ten-year old self.

He had found, to his surprise, that there was a great deal of satisfaction to be found in caring for someone (something?) else. He’d asked Dad about the best salves and techniques for healing her, made it his business to come out every morning and every night to check on her water and her wound, and when he couldn’t think of anything more to do, had just sat and talked to her about nothing in particular. About his day, the weather, the harvest, his continuing flight training, his mother and how much he missed her...whatever had come into his head. It was beautiful to think about someone other than yourself, and how you could make things better for them.

In the end, only a faint scar remained to remind him of his carelessness. He could feel it now under his hands as he clung to her trunk. You could hardly see it with your eyes, but it could be felt, and it would always be there.

And STILL he’d managed, all these years later, to forget that his being clever wasn’t what mattered. It mattered who got hurt. And this time he’d left a much bigger scar.

…

She knew he was thinking about the scar on her trunk. She could tell he was touching it, more by what she couldn’t feel, that one spot where she felt nothing, as though there was a part of her bark that just wasn’t there. She’d been enjoying the feel of the harvest, all that life, ripe fruit leaving the trees, as it must, to ready the grove for its rest, then new leaves and flowers and fruit again. Then she’d felt it: first surprise, then pain. For a minute, she hadn’t noticed anything but the burning. The burning had stopped and she’d felt fear from both herself and her boy.

The pain had eased, a little at first, then more as he’d cared for her. He’d done a fine job. But more than the work of his hands, what had helped her heal was his presence. He’d been at her side, a constant companion, the words the fleeting ones were so fond of using pouring out of him like rain. The ones she remembered best had been whispered after the sun slept: “I’m so sorry.”

She’d forgiven him. Of course she had. She loved him. She knew he hadn’t meant any harm; that he’d feared for her, that he cared for her. What was a scar or two when weighed against all the seasons of love and growing? She had survived, and so would he. And there would be other harvests. One was coming soon.

…

The scent of the koyo-fruit teased along the wind again. He closed his eyes and let the memories happen. Maybe the only way through was to remember.

...

They’d grown closer, sharing meals when they could. There was never much time. Between missions, moments stolen from whatever else they were supposed to be doing. He noticed she was a fresh fruit junkie, not that they got much, but when they did her eyes would light up with delight. He couldn’t bring her snow grapes; nobody could, going into that system was more than your life was worth. So he arranged to bring her some fresh koyo-fruit. At least he could bring his home to her. She’d never tasted it before. But he’d enjoyed watching her discover how much she liked it; and when she’d laughed, juice and pulp across one cheek, he’d reached out without thinking to wipe it away with his thumb.

He liked the way her cheek felt against his hand. So he’d kept it there. He couldn’t decide whether he liked looking at her eyes or her mouth more, so he settled on one, then the other in turn. And then she kissed him. She tasted of the fruit he’d brought her; ripe and tart and sweet, like he’d come home after a long time away, at once completely familiar and wonderfully new. He’d thought his heart might actually exit his chest. And they’d laughed, both nervous and excited by this delicate new thing. And then the alarms had started blaring and it was back to their shared fight. Back to the mission, the work. He’d jumped into the cockpit with the taste of koyo-fruit still in his mouth.

…

 

He opened his eyes to a darkening sky and the taste of koyo brandy in his mouth, bitter and not improved by time or quantity. He thought he’d come home to get away from himself and the deaths he’d caused and the memories. Of something that had been new and wonderful and couldn’t ever be more than a memory now. But everything here reminded him of Paige now. That wasn’t fair. And his older, earlier pain. His mother, lost before she had a chance to see him become a man, a pilot like she was. Before she’d had a chance to see him try to be a hero. Or see him fail. He hadn’t really gotten away from anything. He’d brought it with him and found it here where it had been waiting. He was tangled up with his lost ones, like gnarled roots, and he didn’t know how to break free. He gave up and let the tears come. Better here, with no one to see but her.

...

There were tears on her roots. It hurt her that she could do nothing but soak up his pain. She had to do something. Anything to distract and comfort her boy and let him know he was loved, but how? He wasn’t a sapling any more, no longer a child to play in her branches and hide his treasures among her leaves. Wait…treasures. She REMEMBERED. A shiver, a sway, no more than could be the fault of the wind and down it came, a box he’d forgotten about long ago, left in the crook of a branch as he told her his secrets.

...

Ow. Something hit him on the shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. What the hell!? Oh.

He remembered this box. Dad had made it, he thought. He wasn’t sure, it had been in the house as long as he could remember. He’d spotted it, carved with pictures of mountains and jungle and rivers and in one corner, high in the carved sky, an X-Wing peeking out from between the clouds. He’d asked if he could have it; Dad had shrugged and said it wasn’t holding anything right now, why not? He’d seemed pleased that Poe had asked.

He opened the box, its small hinges rusty and creaky with disuse. Oh, wow. He’d filled it with everything that had been important to him, all his treasures. How could he have forgotten?

There was a whisper-bird feather, still golden, from his mother. A piranha-beetle molt he’d found rambling around and climbing trees. A carved toy version of his mother’s ship, a perfect miniature RZ A-1 Interceptor his father had made. Dad was always cutting something into a piece of wood. Oh, man. So that’s where Mom’s pilot’s insignia had gone. He ran his fingers over it as he’d done so many times after she’d gone. Here was a page of piloting tips from Uncle L’ulo. He’d heard about Poe’s early attempts at barrel-rolls. But what was this? Another folded paper, creased and blotched with what looked like tears.

He remembered the tears and the paper more clearly as he unfolded it. Mom had given it to him before he’d even known she was sick; though thinking back, he thought she’d probably already known. She’d told him it was her favorite poem, that she couldn’t even remember who’d written it, but she’d found it soon after she’d joined up and it had helped her get through some tough times. The paper wasn’t in great shape for reading out here in the twilight, but he realized he still knew the words by heart.

“ _If I should die protecting what I love,_  
_Let no one say my death has been in vain_  
_Because my trying, even if I fail_  
_Says what I love was worth the fear and pain_

 _If I should die surrounded by my loves_  
_My death is beautiful, no matter how_  
_I meet my end. For I have loved as well_  
_And fiercely as my heart and soul allow._

 _If I should die unknown, alone, afraid_  
_With no one there to mourn me as I go_  
_Then know I haven't gone so far away_  
_Just think of me, and smile, and I will know._

 _If I should die in battle, fighting hard_  
_Against an enemy, in blood and rage_  
_Then know that love was always at my side_  
_To make that anger power, not a cage._

 _I think of all the deaths that I could face_  
_And leaving you may make me want to cry_  
_But no death can defeat me if I lived_  
_and loved you all, because your love was why._ ”

And she had. His mother had protected what she loved, had left the fight to live a loving life, and she’d died surrounded by her loves. But he hadn’t. He’d killed what he loved. He hoped she’d known, at the end, how much he’d begun to love her.

....

The last time he’d seen Paige, she’d talked about the Otomok system again. She’d told him the snowgrape on her pendant was the symbol of her home system. She’d told him that it did remind her of home; but that it also served to remind her that they had to defeat the First Order so she and Rose could see home again; could help restore it to what it had once been. She’d had a poem too, he remembered; some obscure poet of her home system, but she said the poem helped her to feel connected even though she couldn’t go back. It only took him a second to remember the words; everything she’d said and done that last time they met was burned into his brain. She’d tucked a paper into his pocket, said he might need the words someday. There had been tear stains on that paper too.

 _A star as it shines_  
_Its last light, knows it was part_  
_Of other, distant stars._

 

...

 

And thinking about it, he remembered how he'd folded that paper up small and stuck the pin of HIS rank insignia through it so it would never get lost.  He fumbled with the pin a bit, fingers weren't working very well now.  He might've drawn a little blood.  But there it was, that tiny but very important bit of paper. He even managed to pin the insignia back on.  He was proud of that.  It was important.  He was a pilot, after all.

 

...

 

They’d had a last, brief time alone. There had been a lot of kisses, and some disarrangement of their uniforms as they discovered each other a little more, as time allowed. It hadn’t allowed as much as he would have liked. But that had been okay. He’d thought they had all the time in the world.

And then the sirens again. She hadn't said goodbye. Paige didn’t like to say goodbye. She said she’d had to say it too many times and for too many things in her life to want to say it again. So he’d racked his brain to find the right words, a way to say goodbye without saying something else was being taken away. He wasn’t much of a words guy, himself, but he’d had a burst of inspiration. “I’ll watch the stars turn until I see you again”, he said, and was rewarded with a smile. She’d told him she liked that, and repeated it in turn. He hadn’t thought then that he might not see her again.

...

Poe squinted at the house. It was getting a little blurry around the edges. He could still see the light in the hallway from here, though. It was always on. When he’d been a small boy, every time his parents left each other, they’d said the same thing. “If you get home first, leave a light on for me.” He’d thought that was pretty hokey, just one of the bizarre in-jokes and other weird things parents say. But in the last days that she was able to move around the house, his mother had turned on that light and left it that way. And his father had left it on in all the years since she’d gone. He remembered how undone Dad had been after Mom died. He’d turned the light off once, without thinking. His father had turned pale, shaken his head, and gently told Poe that this light should be shining always. He hadn’t explained any further. And he hadn’t put the pieces together until now. All these years, he’d made sure to maintain the light she’d left on for him. Except for Poe’s one mistake. Well, it certainly wasn’t the biggest mistake he’d ever made.

That was the last real coherent thought he could muster. He slid to the ground at the foot of the tree and just stared at the stars that had started to appear. Distant stars. Occasionally obscured by falling leaves, but always there.

…

Her boy was mourning. It was normal to mourn the dying of an individual light, even if you knew it was part of the greater, surrounding light. She wished he knew she was there mourning with him, not for the light she’d never seen, but for his pain and shattered certainty. She bent, more than could be accounted for by the years and the wind. She dropped leaves out of season, sending them spiralling away. It was the best she could do.

...

Poe was in trouble. A lot of trouble. And a lot more trouble if Snap couldn’t find him soon. The AWOL kind of trouble.

For now, it was just a private word from General Organa, to let him know that Poe couldn’t be located after they’d finished the evacuation of Crait. He’d already been sent to retrieve any remaining leadership from the far-flung corners of space and reactivate retired personnel because there just weren’t that many of them left now. It hadn’t been hard to add another potentially missing person to his list.

 

He’d swung by headquarters to see if he could find any clues in Poe’s gear. Nothing. He’d checked Poe’s ship, such as it was. They’d all been assigned new craft. That was where he’d found a very distressed BB-8. The little droid was fixing the ship, which was his job, but he’d obviously been left behind. He somehow even managed to LOOK dejected, which was sort of impressive.

...

“Hey, BB-8. Do you know where Poe went? Why’d he leave you here?”

He listened closely to the answer. BB-8 did not know where Poe was. And he was VERY unhappy about it. But he interrupted himself with a high-pitched whistle, the droid version of AHA! And without warning he projected a hologram video right into Snap’s knee.

Snap stepped back so he could see it better. Oh, yeah, there it was. BB-8 was showing him an old rustbucket even more broken down than the rest of these derelicts, and Poe in the cockpit entering coordinates.

“Blow that up for me, would you, buddy? The console.”

The image zoomed in on Poe’s hands and the console itself. He could make out the coordinates now. Yavin 4. Poe had gone home.

More distressed sounds from BB-8. He said Poe had told him to stay behind and fix the ship. BB-8 had asked him who would talk to him on the trip there if he was alone? And Poe had told him he wasn’t going there to talk. He was going to drink. Uh-oh.

Okay. That added a new wrinkle. This was turning into a two-man job. Who was the best man to help him here? C’ai had been sent on the same mission he had. Most of the able-bodied pilots had gone along. It was vital to locate any allies that were still alive. Wait. Hang on. Not a man. He needed the best woman for the job. Paige would have been perfect. They’d had a thing going. Everybody had known. It was adorable. But they’d left them alone to figure it out. But Paige was gone, the hero of the evacuation of D’Qar. Oh, crap. This was about Paige. That’s why Poe had gone AWOL.

So who else? Right. He needed Kaydel. Always hanging conveniently about where Poe might be. Looking at Poe, and sometimes at Poe and Paige, with hopeful, hopeless eyes. She’d been lucky to keep her job and her rank after joining Poe’s ridiculous mutiny. And why in hell had she done that? She had to be pretty gone on him to do a damn fool thing like that. So yeah, she was definitely the person he needed.

There was an inquisitive noise at his feet. “I saw it. Yavin 4. Yeah, buddy, I got him. What? Of course you can come along.”

…

The trip was routine, easy. Yavin 4 was still safe (though Poe had worried enough to have his father sent off-world). It was why they were going that mattered.

...

They found him at the foot of the big tree that grew behind the house. Dead to the world and smelling of...bad brandy, if the bottle next to him was any indication. Yeesh. Between them, Kaydel and Snap managed to get Poe on his feet and into the house, where they poured him into bed. Snap spared a moment to wonder why the hell that tree was glowing. Huh. Weird.

In the process of wrangling him into the house, they’d found a box next to the brandy bottle. And two pieces of paper, one in each hand. They had some trouble getting him to let go. As he finished pulling off Poe’s boots (which involved a fair amount of swearing) and the chain he wore with his mother’s ring (which had somehow ended up snarled over one ear), Snap had caught Kaydel reading each paper in turn. She put them on the dresser without comment and weighted them down with the chain he passed to her, but he thought he’d seen a few tears.

“Hey, Kaydel, listen. You knew about him and Paige?” She nodded wordlessly, looking at her feet. “Okay. This whole thing hit him harder than I thought. The bombing run, Paige’s death...I thought he was all right. I mean, it was a big deal, obviously, but I thought he’d shrugged it off and gone on with the mission. I was wrong. Clearly. He’s gonna need some time. I’m no expert, believe me, but when he’s had that time...I think maybe you can help.”

She nodded again. Okay, that was probably all he needed to say. Thank the stars. And she was willing, if the way she brushed Poe’s hair back from his face was any indication. Good enough. All that was left was to let him sleep it off and make sure he got back before there had to be an official record. That was a job for the morning.

...

She felt better. Her boy had help. They would check on his wounds and talk to him until the scar healed over. That was good. She’d thought, since She Who Planted had gone, that she missed the presence of love in this place. Their love had been strong, She and her man. But this was good too. It was enough. There were many kinds of love.


	2. Morning Soon and Mourning Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought this was a one-off. But Kaydel had something to say. BB-8, faithful droid space puppy, did too. I wish they would tell me these things sooner, it would be easier all around. And when I thought it was finished, Leia decided my little stories are related. Who knew?
> 
> So: the further meanderings of Poe, with a little help from his friends.

“Owwwwww…ow.” A faint sound from the bed.

Snap put down the engine part he’d been tinkering with and glanced over to the other side of the room. Huh. Signs of life. He’d been wondering if the snoring would ever end. They’d taken it in turns to sit with him when he started talking and trying to get up while still asleep. It seemed like a good idea.

“Hey, it lives. Mostly.” He’d thought about which approach to take and had decided on relentlessly cheerful. It was best to go along as normally as possible, which meant he needed to give Poe a ration of shit. No problem. “And how are we feeling this fine morning?” He walked over to the window and threw open the curtains. There was a louder groan. The shape in the bed threw an arm over its face.

“Noooo, BRIGHT. C’mon, Snap. Make it go away.” Further signs of life. It was working. The shape sat up and resolved itself into a pained-looking Poe. He ran both hands through his hair. This did not much improve its current state of pointing in several directions at once.

“But it’s such a beautiful day.” He relented a little. “Okay. Look, you pull yourself together and meet us in the kitchen for breakfast. If you can.” But only a little. He picked up the bottle on the table and sniffed. “Dude. You DRANK this? It smells like axle grease.” He shook his head and put the bottle back on the table. “No wonder you told me you had to go sing to a tree.” He grinned.

“I did what? Oh, no.” Poe dropped his face into his hands.

“Oh, yes. You said it was morning and you had to go check on her. In the middle of the night. With your eyes closed. The tree’s a her? When I told you it wasn’t a great idea to go anywhere yet, you told me she likes it when you sing to her.”

Poe shook his head without bothering to lift it from his hands. Snap picked up the engine part and started heading for the hallway.

“Wait!” Poe held up a hand. “Who’s *us*? What are you *doing* here, Snap? How did you even find me?” He looked really confused and a little annoyed. “I came here to get away.”

Oh, hell no. “What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here? You’re AWOL, ace. You’re lucky your rank isn’t even lower than it was when you left. “Us” is me, BB-8 -- I mean, he’ll probably pass on the breakfast -- and Kaydel. You owe her a thank you. She’s got more important things to do than retrieve your sorry carcass. So do I. The rest can wait. And...you’re welcome.” He didn’t *quite* slam the door.

He felt sort of bad once he left the room. But seriously. They had JOBS to do. And they’d come to get him anyway. Sounding annoyed was a bit much. He didn’t mind the time; Poe was a good friend, and worth the trouble. But he needed to cut the attitude. Aw, damn it.

…

Poe *was* annoyed. He’d wanted to soak himself in solitude. Okay, and drink. Drinking had definitely been part of his half-formed thoughts of escape.. But he hadn’t planned on half drowning himself in brandy. Oh, no, don’t think about the brandy. Snap was right. It had kind of tasted like axle grease too.

Then he thought about what Snap was supposed to be doing right now. He’d been sent to find their allies; retired and scattered Resistance personnel, who were needed because...Shit. Because they’d lost so many of their own. His fault. Damn it.

And instead he was here babysitting. Yikes. And he’d brought Kaydel. What was *she* doing here? Wasn’t she already in enough trouble for joining his plan to relieve Admiral Holdo of command? Okay. Fine. His mutiny. Call it what it was. She certainly didn’t need any more of his brand of trouble.

He was stalling. Nothing like an apology breakfast. Better get to it. Nope. Better clean up first. He smelled like a foot locker full of dirty laundry. No one deserved to sit across from that.

 

Poe took his time. He was not looking forward to explaining himself. He dressed in whatever worn, soft, hang-around-the-house old clothes came to hand first from what he’d left in the closet years ago and padded barefoot and wet-haired into the kitchen. Time to face the music.

…

Poe looked a lot better as he slouched into the kitchen. Cleaner, anyway. And awake. Those were both improvements. He was a little flinchy around the eyes, though. Damn. Maybe he had been a little harsh.

“Thanks, guys. I’m sorry you had to come out here. Listen, you don’t have to stay. I can get myself back just fine. I know you’ve got places to be.” He was fidgeting. That was not like him at all. Back to cheerful it was.

Kaydel looked up from setting the table and shook her head. “It’s no trouble. Everybody needs a hand sometimes.” She smiled. “Or maybe a stretcher. We probably could have used one of those.” The smile got wider. And a little wicked. Yeah, she was going to do just fine.

Poe was turning a nice shade of red. “You, too? Okay. I deserve that. Am I allowed to eat, or should I start penance laps around the property?” There he was. Better.

Kaydel put a finger to her chin. There was silence for a moment. Poe started to open his mouth again. She waggled the finger at him. “Don’t rush me, I’m thinking. No, you can eat. But you’re doing all the dishes.”

Poe’s stomach answered for him with an audible growl. They had to laugh.

“Better take that deal, Poe.” Snap started setting down plates. “Otherwise she’ll have to give you a different assignment. And I’m betting it goes downhill from here.” He raised one eyebrow at Kaydel, who nodded. “Yeah, dishes are your best bet.”

They dug into the food. “Where did all this come from, anyway?”, Poe asked.

Snap shrugged. “I knew the place would be empty. Well, except for you. So Kaydel raided the commissary.” She’d done a fine job of it, too. A cooler full of simple but delicious things had just appeared when it was time to go.

Poe gave her a sidelong glance and nodded. “Thanks for thinking about what we’d need.” Was she blushing? Snap wasn’t sure, but she was definitely looking at her plate in a hurry.

“It’s just food. But you’re welcome.” She smiled. “So this is where you grew up? It’s nice. I had no idea you were really a farm boy.” Her voice was teasing.

Snap scoffed. “Yeah, tell her what you spent most of your “farming” time doing. I’ve heard your dad on this subject.”

Poe ducked his head. “Oh, I couldn’t wait to fly. Any ship. Anywhere. I mean, that was mostly Mom’s doing, she had me at the controls on her lap. But once I got a little older I wired engines to anything I could get my hands on. It drove my dad nuts. I was SUPPOSED to be helping around the place. I was kind of a terrible farm boy, if you want to know the truth. This place was their retirement. Something to grow, something to do. But flying’s all I ever wanted.” He smiled.

They were making decent inroads in breakfast when Kaydel said “Oh, we need something to put on the bread. I didn’t think of that.” She fished around in the pantry. “There isn’t much.” There was the sound of a jar opening. “Here, Poe.” She handed him a jar of what looked like jam.

Snap had not previously been aware that you could turn green and white at the same time. Poe’s chair scraped back. He stood up and put the jar on the table. “I...I need some air. ‘Scuse me.” He lit out of the kitchen like he was on fire.

Snap and Kaydel stared dumbfounded at each other. “What the hell was that about?” He had no idea what had just happened.

Kaydel picked up the jar and sniffed the contents. “It’s just jam. What did I do?” She put the lid back on.

Snap shook his head. “You didn’t do anything. His head is all over the place. Look, let’s clear the table. We’ll have to figure this stuff out as we go. Okay?”

She nodded. “I’m still leaving him the dishes.” The smile was a little weak this time.

“Oh, yeah you are. And if he’s not back soon, you go find him and make him do the laps, too.”

…

He hadn’t gone very far. He tended to end up in the hangar when he wasn’t paying attention. He’d just...he’d had to get out of there. The smell of koyo-fruit jam had hit him like a brick. And crying at breakfast would be embarrassing as hell. Here there was nobody to see or hear, so he sank down next to the entrance and just let the tears happen. He wondered how long he could get away with hiding out here before he had to explain himself again.

A soft, questioning whistle brought his attention back outside his own head. BB-8 had quietly rolled up beside him. The little droid bumped up against his knee and repeated the sound, followed by a cheerful beep.

“Hey, buddy. It’s good to see you too. No, I’m okay. Mostly. Okay. Not really.” His face was hot. He buried it against BB-8’s cool, rounded side. “But it’s still good to see you.” He gave the little guy some pats, thumps and scratches. BB-8 told him all about how Snap had found him and he had helped track Poe down. That was pretty impressive.

A long, sad note. “Yeah, I know. I should’ve taken you with me. I’m sorry. But no reason to get both of us in trouble, was there?” An outraged-sounding shrill followed by a lecture. He laughed. “Okay! You’re right. It’s *your* choice whether you want to get into trouble.” He shook his head. “I just...I couldn’t be there any more. I couldn’t look at where she’d been. Or think about whether we would’ve been good. I think maybe we could have been.” He had no idea why he was talking about this now. But it was easier. “I couldn’t look at how many of us were LEFT. I couldn’t look at myself. My fault. It was my fault.” A protest in whirrs and sympathetic beeps.

“No, it was. It just took me a while to see it…and then I came here, and everything reminded me of her anyway. Did you know I gave her fruit from Dad’s groves? Yeah. And then I smelled the jam this morning.” And there he went again. BB-8 rolled up under Poe’s arm. He was making a series of low, almost musical tones. They weren’t words. He was...crooning. It was a weirdly comforting sound.

…

Kaydel pressed herself flat against the outside wall of the hangar. Well, that explained a lot. She hadn’t meant to listen, but he was *talking*, finally, and she hated to interrupt. He was blaming himself for the whole Fulminatrix disaster, which accounted for the state he’d been in when they found him. He wasn’t wrong. And for Paige. She’d been kicking herself for hesitating ever since she realized they were together, but she’d been glad for him.

She wasn’t clear on how much time they really had to get him home, though. It sounded like he was done talking. And she couldn’t bear the broken sounds coming from the hangar much longer. Well...she was usually too subtle and careful for her own good. Just now those might be assets.

She made sure to back up a bit and whistle coming toward the hangar door. “Poe, you in here?” There was a choked sort of cough and some throat-clearing. Okay, good.

Poe looked up from the floor by the entrance as she came inside. “Hey, yeah, I’m in here. Just saying hello to BB-8. He’s a little upset with me. Sorry, fella.” He ran his hand affectionately down the droid’s side. “Sorry I ran out on breakfast. Just not feeling too well, you know?”

Uh-huh. Right. “Sure. I understand. Can I ask you a favor?” Please. Do her a favor so she could help him.

Poe got up and dusted himself off. “Yeah, sure. I mean, you’re already doing one for me. What d’you need?”

He had no idea. “Could you show me around the place? It’s beautiful here. And there’s a tree I’d like to...meet?”

He blushed. “You heard that too, huh? I don’t usually...she’s hard to explain. But I can do that.” They moved to the door and almost ran into Snap.

“Oh, good, you found him.” He clapped Poe on the shoulder. “Look, I need to get on the horn to General Organa and find out exactly how long we have to get back before we’re all in trouble. BB-8, give me a hand?” An affirmative whistle as they moved toward Snap’s ship.

She took pity on Poe as they headed out. “No, Snap told me about the tree. I mean, I saw her last night. That’s where you were. But she seems pretty important to you.” Not too much pity, though. “I did get to hear you sing, though.”

She hadn’t thought he could get any more red. He slapped both hands over his face, then gave up and dragged them down to his chin. A pained look. “Oh, great. Sea shanty? Drinking song? I can’t believe I…yes I can. Sorry. Sure. I’ll introduce you to her.”

They started down the path. “Why be sorry? You’ve got a beautiful singing voice. It was just a little hard to understand the words”, she teased. “Something about stars and eyes?”

He looked startled. “Oh, THAT one. That’s an old song Dad used to sing to Mom. Where did THAT come from?” He shook his head.

“I don’t know, but I’d love to hear it properly some time.” Too much? She hoped not. She spent a few minutes looking at her feet. You know. Like you did. For balance.

“So when Mom and Dad left active service, they started this place. I was really little. I don’t remember living anywhere else but here. But Mom used to say Dad needed a purpose. He’s really patient, my Dad. But he needs something to be doing with his hands all the time. Usually he’s whittling something.” He laughed. “And singing while he’s doing it. So they planted the...koyo groves. And pretty soon he was as busy as he could handle.” There had been a faint pause and a tremor in the middle there.

“That sounds like a wonderful way to spend your time together. Was your mother involved with the groves too?” She waved a hand at the neat rows of trees.

“Sometimes. I mean, at harvest time it was all hands on deck. But she was still flying a lot..for fun, mostly, I guess? And she had her greenhouse.” He pointed at a dark building off to one side without looking at it. “No point in showing you that, it hasn’t been used for years.” He sounded anxious to avoid it. Okay. She wasn’t going to push it. She knew his mother was dead. People still talked about Shara Bey. Whatever reasons he had for avoiding the greenhouse were his own.

They stopped at the end of the path.

…

Poe was glad she hadn’t asked to see the greenhouse. He could barely talk about the damn fruit that grew here, let alone get into his mother’s orchids.

Kaydel stepped up to the tree. “She’s beautiful in the daylight.” She patted the trunk. “And she seems perfectly healthy. Why were you so worried about her?” She threw him a puzzled frown.

“Oh, that. Um. I’m not. Not now. Look, I was a little confused last night.” He shuffled his feet.

Kaydel snorted indelicately. “Okay, ‘confused’. You mean drunk. Dead drunk, out of your mind, completely soaked, pickled yourself drunk. You tried to climb the stairs, Poe. It’s a one story house.”

Poe thought about being offended for a bare second, but then she started to giggle. It was contagious. In a minute they were both wiping tears out of their eyes while they laughed.

“Okay, fine. Anyway, I spent a whole year when I was ten getting out of bed to check on her, so I must’ve been dreaming about it or something, sleeping in that room again.” He told her the story. That one was easy. That one he’d fixed, more or less. “It was my first real big screw-up.”

“Really? Where is it? You can’t even tell. And why was your Dad so upset? Why is this tree so important?” She patted the trunk again. “No offense meant.”

Wow. Kaydel was already talking to her. It usually took a lot longer before people starting doing that. “She’s...I told you she’s hard to explain. Mom and Master Skywalker brought this tree all the way from an Imperial base, a secret one on Vetine. It was a dangerous mission, from what I hear. But Master Skywalker said she’s Force Sensitive. She’s not just any tree. I still don’t really understand what that means. None of us here are Jedi. But Dad says they were told she can *feel*, that she’s more aware.”

He shrugged. “Me? I grew up with her. She’s always been here. So when I hurt her, and Dad set me to tending her, I talked to her a lot. It couldn’t hurt, and I thought if she could feel, it might help. She was easy to talk to. I kind of got into the habit of talking to her when I’m here.”

…

Kaydel was no Jedi either. But if Poe really believed there was something special about her, that was good enough. And there had been something about her last night. A little more than moonlight. Poe had looked surprisingly...safe, curled up among her roots.

She ran her hand down the trunk. “Oh. Well hello, then. Thanks for looking after Poe.”

She felt a hand on hers. She froze, heart suddenly thudding. He could probably HEAR it. She could feel his breath on her neck. He slid her hand around the rough bark to a spot that was smooth. Less like bark, more like...plastic? It didn’t feel like the rest. She couldn’t breathe. She’d better.

“It’s right here. Feel it? You can’t see it.” Was he kidding? She could feel EVERYTHING. He stepped back. She was disappointed. And relieved. But mostly disappointed. She wished...no, she didn’t. It was too soon. That was selfish. Later. SAY SOMETHING.

“Wow. You must have done a good job. You really can’t tell she was ever hurt.” She was pretty sure her voice sounded normal. She turned to face him.

He smiled, a little crookedly. “I might’ve gone a little overboard. Special mixtures of stuff to put on the burn...I covered it at night. The talking. And yeah.” He ducked his head. “I sang to her. I mean, she seemed to like it. Right?” The last word wasn’t for her. He stepped forward again and laid his head against the trunk. Then she heard it. He was singing very, very softly. Kaydel thought she might be holding her breath again. This was ridiculous.

“ _Trunk and branch and bark and root_  
_Leaf and twig and flower and fruit_  
_Wind and water, soil and light_  
_Time and care will set you right._ ”

He laughed, head still pressed against the bark. “I was ten. Not a great songwriter.” There was a shiver in the leaves over their heads. Maybe it was just a gust of wind. But she wasn’t so sure. “You might be the only person besides Dad who’s ever heard that one. I’d almost forgotten about it.” He continued speaking, face now hidden in one arm where it lay against the tree. “It was work to fix her, but it was worth it. I just...I wish I could fix all my mistakes.”

...

 

She put a hand on his shoulder. He grabbed it like he was drowning, still without looking up. He had to talk. He didn’t want to, but he thought some things needed to be shared with another human being before you could go through them and out the other side. “I screwed up again. I didn’t really understand until the other day, when I saw all the empty places, saw how many of us were left. Until we were *still* for a minute. That’s when I finally figured out how badly. That’s why I had to go. I couldn’t be there.” There was a strangled noise that might have been a sob or a groan. He didn't know which, but he thought he'd made it.  “Because I’m responsible. Because I killed them.”

The next thing he knew, the hand on his shoulder had grabbed him and spun him around, and he was looking into Kaydel’s very angry face.

“That is about *enough* of that. Yes, Poe. You’re responsible. But you didn’t kill them. The First Order did. You wanted to protect them, and you did it wrong. And if you were still here picking fruit, it would be a small mistake. But you’re more important than that, so you make more important mistakes. You’re a brilliant pilot and you care about this fight. That’s why I...WE need you. So suck it up.”

She shoved him backwards until his shoulders hit bark. “Accept responsibility. That’s what we do here. We play with fire EVERY DAY. Sometimes somebody else gets burned, and sometimes it’s us. And there’s work to do, so we have to go shoulder that responsibility again. AND the blame, if that’s what it takes. We can’t do this without you. But you don’t have to do it without us either. We love you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Her small fists were clenched. She was breathing hard like she’d been running. And now they were both crying.

…

He stared at her for a few long moments. Here was hoping he hadn’t noticed that slip. Or hoping he had. Who knew? Then he grabbed her and hugged her until she was breathless, like she was the only thing holding him up. Maybe she was. That was okay. She could be strong enough. They were still both crying. But the sounds were different this time. Deep, ragged sobs like he was tearing something out of himself. That made sense. He’d put this off, and it was poisoning him. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. She was perfectly sure what she WANTED to do with them. But this was *definitely* not the time. So she curled one hand around his shoulder and used the other to stroke his hair. She could be patient. She could be strong. She could wait.

After a few minutes (and an increasing need for air), he let go and stepped back, scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m sorry. That was...you didn’t need to do that. Let me cry on your shoulder.” He flushed. “Literally.”

“But you did need to do that.” She shrugged. So casual. Right. “ And why wouldn’t I? I told you, you don’t have to do this alone.” She rubbed a hand over her own eyes. “Why do you think we came to get you, you idiot? Anyway, you still have dishes to wash. So...lovely to meet you, Lady Tree. Poe has work to do. Here’s hoping you won’t see him running laps past you later.” She glanced sidelong at him.

Poe spread his hands. “Okay, I surrender. I’m an idiot, there’s work to do, and dishes are waiting. After you, ma’am.” He bowed with a flourish in the general direction of the house.

The walk back was easier.

…

She LIKED this one. The one who was helping. Her spark burned bright. That was good. Her boy’s light was returning. She didn’t much care about time, but she thought she hadn’t heard his song for her in many seasons. She *had* liked his singing, very much. Like wind on the water, or rain on leaves. He’d been smaller when last he sang it. But it was still full of love. The one who was helping was full of love too, for her boy. He would need that, to sustain him far away from the soil where he had grown. Love had helped her, when She Who Planted and He Who Spoke had brought her here.

She decided she quite liked being called Lady Tree.

…

 

Snap was waiting when they got to the house. “Okay, guys. That was NOT my favorite report I’ve ever had to make. Good news, though. Officially, Poe here is on leave to help at the family farm while his dad’s not here.” He pointed back into the kitchen. “He can start with the dishes. I’m still on mission collecting Resistance allies.” He straightened up suddenly and waved at both of them. “Hey, look -- allies.” They both had to laugh. It might’ve been a little ragged. “And Kaydel here has been seconded to me to coordinate communications with said allies. Lieutenant Connix, please ensure that this vital information reaches Captain Dameron.” Kaydel did her best, but now she couldn’t stop giggling.

“D-do the dishes, Poe.” That was about all she could manage. He saluted and moved back to the sink, still laughing.

Snap waved a hand at her. “Eh. Close enough.” He pointed at Kaydel. “You and me, we’re going to have a killer game of Galactic Expansion while Poe helps around the family farm.” He grinned.

She had to ask. “What’s a Galactic Expansion?” Too late, she saw Poe behind Snap. He was shaking his head , mouthing *no* and waving his hands in front of him.

Snap’s smile got wider, shining against the darkness of his beard. “Oh, a new fish. Yeah, I’m gonna crush you.” Kaydel was a little scared. She wasn’t certain, but she thought Poe was laughing into the drain.

It turned out Galactic Expansion was a board game. And he was right. Snap was beating her handily in no time at all.

She was contemplating her inevitable defeat when she heard something over the sound of running water. He was singing again.

“ _Maybe you carry_  
_The night in disguise_  
_All the stars in the sky_  
_Don’t compare to the ones in your eyes…_ ”

So THOSE were the stars and eyes lyrics. She wasn’t entirely sure he knew he was doing it. Yes. She could be patient. She was sure.

She looked back at Snap. He indicated Poe’s back with a tilt of his head and raised an eyebrow. She could only shrug; but it was an elaborate shrug, with a hint of smirk. He shook his head and clapped slowly and silently in her direction.

The second game, she almost beat him.

…

Alone in her quarters, Leia could finally relax. She’d had a lot of public personas in her life, but she thought General Organa was one of the hardest. Telling people what to do--and telling them off--when they were desperate and exhausted and grieving was NOT her favorite part of the job. Someone had left hot water for tea. She should find out who that was and thank them. It was hard to remember everyone. No, it really wasn’t. Not now. She should be up to the task. But she was just so tired.

At least she’d managed to do something kind for someone today. Temmin Wexley hadn’t held anything back when he’d reported on locating Poe Dameron, especially after she’d made sure he knew in no uncertain terms that he was responsible for getting all three of them back to headquarters. Evidently Poe was in bad shape, though. That wouldn’t do.

He’d been arrogant, and an idiot, and the consequences had been ghastly, though his heart was true. But she needed him here, doing exactly what he did best, at HER orders. She needed him right on that slender knife’s edge between obedient and overconfident. That’s where he could do his best work. So a few euphemisms and embroideries in the official paperwork, and he could have some time and company to get himself right. There was time enough for that. If there wasn’t, what were they fighting for?

She began making herself a cup of tea, the motions familiar and soothing.

She knew who Paige Tico was, of course. He hadn’t had to remind her. Rose’s sister. Both heroes, those two. She wished they didn’t need so many heroes. She reminded herself to extend condolences to Rose. She hadn’t realized Poe and Paige had been seeing each other. But she’d heard Paige and her sister talking about things they missed from home, and their story had touched her. It hadn’t been easy getting anything with that scent. Snowgrape, she recalled. She’d had to get in touch with some of Han’s oldest and seediest “friends”.

She hadn’t been there to see it delivered. That was okay. Her people worked best when she largely left them alone. An occasional walk through their day was enough. But she’d been told the gift had been well received. She knew what it was like to miss simple things from a home you weren’t likely to see again, and how wonderful it was when someone cared enough to give a piece of it back to you.

She sat back, sipping a cup of tea, the beginning of the last of the boxes. It wasn’t as fresh as it had once been, but that was okay. Chinar and starblossom flooded her senses; precious memories of Alderaan that Han and Ben had brought her a very long time ago. And she smiled. And cried. And remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea whether this is going anywhere. But it went here, so...
> 
> Gamers and small angry women are excellent to have at your side in a crisis.
> 
> And discovering (some time ago in this case) that someone can sing is one of my favorite things in the entire universe.


	3. Good Work and Bad Eggs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helping with the harvest at the family farm, it turns out, is both more dangerous and exactly as frustrating than you'd expect. That was Poe's plan, to have a day where nothing went wrong. Farm equipment and friends evidently have other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's fun to wander around in this story. So enjoy the fluff and fruit, friends and flirting.

Poe sighed. Koyo harvest was _exactly_ as boring and awful as he remembered. Why he’d thought it was a good idea to suggest they actually start bringing in the harvest while they were here, he had no idea. It had seemed like one at the time. He paused to gulp down some water and wipe the sweat from his face.

Maybe it was what Kaydel had said. About how the consequences were bigger in the Resistance than if he’d just stayed home picking fruit. It sounded nice, just being at home with nothing life-and-death to think about. And sure, he loved flying; it was his first love and he didn’t doubt it would be his last, but working on the farm was a fine thing too. He could make something good. Nobody had to get hurt, nobody had to die, and at the end there would be something real and positive to show for it.

Oh, he’d keep fighting. There was no doubt of that. He knew Kaydel was right about that too (she was right about a lot of things); they needed him. And he had a bone to pick with the First Order. They had to be stopped. Too many fine, brave, beautiful souls lost. Nope, don’t think about that. Think about the work. If they could take the First Order down, truly and finally, there could be more harvests like this one. More good places to grow up, with memories you could take with you when you flew.

He shook his head. What he’d discovered was that the koyo-picker hadn’t gotten any faster since he’d last used it. As if to emphasize that thought, there was a rattle, a clank, and a dangerous-sounding POW. The picker ground to a halt. Sod it. Useless piece of junk. Why hadn’t Dad ever replaced it? Right. Because every time he mentioned it, Poe had told him he could fix it. Well, he could. It was just a huge kriffing pain in the exhaust port.

He climbed down off the picker. “Snap! I think we threw a rod again.”

“Yeah, thanks, hotshot. I figured when the fragging thing stopped moving.” Snap shook his head. “Seriously, how does your dad actually manage to produce anything here? This thing is the worst. And I’ve seen the ship you flew here.” Snap climbed down off the back end of the same machine. “All right. I’ll work on it. Here’s hoping we’re not out of spare parts.” He paused to kick one of the panels, then muscled himself under the picker to take a look.

Kaydel looked over from where she was sorting the fruit into piles she called good, bad, and cider. “You _can_ just pick koyo by hand, right? It might actually be faster at this point.” Poe had managed to find her an ancient and absolutely enormous sun hat. It was ridiculous. And also sort of adorable. She squinted at the fruit in her hand. “Yikes. Not sure this one’s good for anything. Cider, you think?” She looked up at Poe. “Brandy?” She waved it at him, grinning.

“Oh, laugh it up. Wait until _you’ve_ tried the stuff.” He shuddered. “Yeah, you can harvest by hand. It’s just...even slower. You need ladders, and it’s just one at a time. And by the time you’re finished, you’ll smell like koyo for DAYS.” He closed his eyes and took a breath. It was getting easier, little by little. He’d been thinking of that, too, when he suggested they start working the farm for real. Wherever he went, eventually this was home, and he needed to remember the good things about it, not just the ones that broke his heart. He opened his eyes to see Kaydel looking puzzled. “Nothing. Just a little too much sun, maybe. Let’s go get the ladders. Snap can keep working on the picker. It’s shadier when you’re actually in the tree anyway.”

…

What seemed like hours later (but sadly wasn’t), Kaydel was wondering whether she and Poe had both lost their minds. She could hear Snap still wrangling with the picker. Repairs seemed to have devolved into a lot of swearing and...from the sound of it, he was just hitting the machine with a hammer. It looked like they’d be picking the rest of the koyo by hand. This involved climbing a ladder into the trees themselves and liberating the fruit one at a time. She and Poe had been taking it in turns to climb and sort the picked fruit while BB-8 held the ladder steady. Poe was right. It was slow, it was sticky, and she was sure she smelled like a sweaty fruit salad.

They kept slogging most of the afternoon. Snap gave up briefly to fly off to the main colony for some food and made them all lunch, which they ate sitting against the trunks of a couple of the larger trees. They’d kept working while he was gone, and sandwiches and cold tea tasted like paradise. The boys lounged against the trees and gave every appearance of enjoying doing nothing for a little while; watching the leaves sway, appreciating the occasional breeze.

Kaydel had never been very good at not thinking, though. She was thinking about all the different things you could make with this fruit; jam, cider, wine, she guessed you could dry it, BB-8 was surprisingly good at holding a ladder with his head, Snap had grease on his nose, Poe’s curls were REALLY distracting blowing around in that breeze, nope, stop it, but SERIOUSLY, it was a fine distraction, and she would just LOVE to…Nope, back to fruit. ”We should try making brandy”, was what emerged from her mouth.

Snap and Poe both looked at her like she’d grown another head. Oops. She guessed that sentence was a little weird unless you’d been inside her thoughts. “We can’t just…”, Snap started to say at the same time Poe said “Why would we…”. She could feel herself blushing. Thinking about lots of things at the same time was nothing new for her, but blurting...THAT was new. “Sorry. I just thought it might be fun to try, and we’ve got a LOT of fruit, and maybe we could do a better job than your dad did. And then you could give it to him later.” She stopped short. She was babbling.

Snap shook his head. “Brandy’s made from wine, we’d have to have that first.” He looked at Poe. “It WOULD be nice to one-up your dad, though. He’s good at almost everything, but that stuff...nasty. I mean, he said he could make _anything_ out of koyo-fruit. I don’t think that qualifies as a successful experiment. Not that I was dumb enough to try it.” He swatted Poe’s shoulder. “That was all you, buddy. All right. I’m gonna tackle that damn machine again. This is WAR. I WILL get it running.” He scrambled up to his feet.

Poe frowned thoughtfully. “There IS koyo wine, though.” Snap stopped to listen. “Dad made _that_ just fine. It’s in the cellar. It’s what he and Uncle L’ulo used to make the brandy. They didn’t use it all, though. There’s still plenty down there.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. General Organa lets the three of us have some time here on the family farm, and we’re making booze? Which…” They could both watch his ears turn red. “...was part of the getting in trouble part anyway.”

Snap laughed. “You forget. I’ve known the General longer than you have. She’d probably think it was hilarious. Not that she’d admit it.” He pointed at Poe. “We’re doing this.” With that, he sauntered off to battle the koyo-picker, still laughing.

He wasn’t laughing for long, though. While they went back to work, the Great Farm Equipment War raged on through the day. Eventually Snap called BB-8 over to help. This involved even more swearing on Snap’s part along with BB-8’s beeps and whistles. She should really learn how to speak droid. BB-8 made Poe laugh, which was always a good thing. It would be nice to know what the little droid was saying.

Kaydel was standing atop the ladder lifting the one of last ripe fruits from this particular tree when she heard the beeps and whistles escalating to a particularly shrill pitch. It sounded for all the world like the droid was telling someone off. She heard Snap start laughing. Was BB-8 yelling at the koyo picker? Then Poe started to laugh. It must be some speech. The ladder started to tremble a little, Poe was laughing so hard. No big deal. Let him laugh. She could adjust for that and hold on to the tree. She turned back to the fruit so she could get it all, so she wasn’t prepared for the _BANG_ when the picker backfired again. It surprised her so much, she lost her grip.

She might have screamed a little. Kaydel grabbed for a branch and missed. She heard Poe say “Oh HELL”, and then she was falling. It happened pretty fast. She thought he knocked the ladder down scrambling to get under her as she fell, arms extended to try and catch her. An alarmed whistle sounded from BB-8, Snap yelled “Kaydel?!” and then she was landing, mostly on top of Poe with a _THUD_ that knocked the breath right out of her (and him, judging from the _oof_ noise he made) and rolled them both over and over until she ended up squashed on the bottom of the tangle of limbs.

They both just lay there for a few seconds trying to suck air into their lungs. Poe raised himself up on his hands and knees, still wheezing a little, and searched her face. “Kaydel?” His voice wasn’t entirely steady. “Are you all right? Hey! Say something!!” He sounded frantic as he cupped her face with one hand. It might’ve been nice if she hadn’t been trying to remember how to breathe.

She nodded at Poe, whooped a little, and cleared her throat. “I’m okay. Give me a minute.”

They both heard another alarmed whistle from BB-8. Snap shot back “Oh _KRIFF_. Yeah, I KNOW it’s on fire! That’s why I’m using the coolant to put it out! Maybe you wanna help. Hey, you both okay? I gotta put this thing out Don’t worry. I got it.”

They both waved at him to show they were all right. He waved back and resumed spraying coolant over a somewhat alarming volume of flames. “Okay. The koyo-picker is officially deceased, guys.”

Kaydel sat up once she’d caught her breath. “Okay. Let me take inventory here.” She tilted her head from side to side, turned at the waist, and tested each of her limbs in turn. It seemed to be going fine until she reached her right ankle, which drew an involuntary hiss of pain. Before she’d even finished making the sound, Poe had scooped her up in his arms as he stood. Oh. That was REALLY nice. It didn’t stop her ankle hurting. But yeah. She could get used to this. But...“Poe, I could...”

“Nope. No way.” He called over his shoulder. “Snap, Kaydel hurt her ankle. I’m taking her to the house. You sure you got this?” Poe turned around and she could see the flames were subsiding.

“Yeah, I’m good. You go ahead, I’ll hold a funeral for this thing and meet you there.” He shook his head and waved them off.

 

Poe carried her all the way back to the house. Kaydel made a few protests, which were soundly squashed, then decided she might as well enjoy herself. She was installed with infinite gentleness in an armchair in the living room, ankle propped on a cushioned stool. “Don’t. Move.” He pointed a finger at her with great seriousness, went to the kitchen, and came back with a cold compress. This wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined getting his hands on her. Kaydel was very, very glad that no one could hear her thoughts right now. Good grief.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Except for your ankle? You didn’t hit your head?” He circled her, searching for signs of a head injury, she guessed, and ended crouched in front of the armchair so he could inspect her more closely.

“No, really, Poe, it’s just my ankle, it’s not even that bad, I don’t need you to fuss.” That was a lie. He could keep fussing as long as he wanted. “Are you all right? I knocked you down. Did you hurt yourself?”

Poe sat back and blew out a breath. “Am I okay? Are you serious? Who gives a damn? I knocked over the ladder. _I knocked over the ladder_. What the hell? I can’t do _anything_ without hurting somebody.” His eyes were getting wild. “I thought picking fruit would be safe. I thought it would be small and harmless and okay and nobody was going to get hurt and I KNOCKED OVER THE LADDER.” He ran his hands through his hair, standing it on end. “You could have been _killed_ , and you want to know if _I’m_ okay?” He was starting to hyperventilate now. Oh boy. It was really one step forward, two steps back with this one. Worth it, every bit.

She sat forward and put her hands on either side of his face. “POE. Stop. STOP. I’m okay. I’m all right. Breathe. It was NOT your fault.” He shook his head and started to open his mouth to protest. “Not. Your. Fault. Okay? The ladder moved a little, yes. I saw that, and I was about to tell you to watch it. But I didn’t have time. I fell because the noise from the picker surprised me and I lost my grip. _I_ lost my grip. You knocked the ladder over _catching_ me. Look at me. Look. I’m fine. You’re fine. All right? Breathe. You did _not_ hurt me. I’m right here.”

He nodded, and buried his face in her shoulder for a moment. Her shirt was a little damp when he lifted his head. Neither of them mentioned it. He stood up. “I’m sorry.” What for? “Will you be okay here while I go see if Snap needs help?” He had a smudge of dirt just over one eyebrow. Her hands itched to brush it away.

She nodded. “Go, I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere. This seems like a very safe chair.” She patted the chair and smiled, hoping for one in return. Not just now, it seemed; his face stayed anxious. She was learning entirely new levels of patience. That happened when you were a sucker for unruly curls and sad eyes. She leaned back in the chair and sighed as he headed back out the door. OW. She was betting the rest of her was going to hurt later.

...

He stopped to lean his head against the tree on his way back to the groves. Okay, it wasn’t actually on the way, but Poe needed a second. Was this what it was going to be like? Just endlessly worrying about people? He remembered L’ulo’s funeral. He’d talked about how they were all luminous beings, like Master Skywalker said. That was all very well; he believed it, and he knew nobody was really gone. L’ulo and the others would always be with him. But he preferred them real, solid, and ALIVE. Either way, he’d have to pull himself together. He couldn’t do his JOB if he spent too much time worrying about each single, precious life; but every life had to mean something, or why was he doing it at all?

Somewhere in the middle was what he needed. Everybody in the Resistance had signed up for this just like he had; they knew the risks, and they still went gladly to the fight. It made the quiet moments in between mean all that much more. Kaydel probably hadn’t thought she was signing up for tree-climbing, though. He grinned. It had probably looked pretty ridiculous when she fell on him. It had _felt_ ridiculous. But not entirely unpleasant. She was solid and real and she’d felt pretty nice in his arms. Oh hell, what was wrong with him? She’d scraped him up off the ground, dealt with his falling apart again, and cheerfully jumped into doing farm chores only to get hurt doing it. He’d better keep his stray thoughts to himself. And go see if Snap had buried the koyo-picker.  
…

This boy of hers. Every feeling outlined so sharply, like bare branches against a winter sky. She supposed they had to be, if your time was fleeting. Trees and rocks and the soil itself, they knew it was all a cycle. You mourned the leaves falling, you huddled within yourself and gathered your energy, and when it was time you celebrated a new spring. It had all happened endless times before, and it would all begin again as the seasons danced. A new spring was always exciting when the sap began to flow and you could sense the first tender shoots. He would see. She knew this child of her heart, and he wouldn’t stay winter-cold for long.

…

 

Snap was trying to figure out how to get the koyo-picker’s smoldering corpse into the shed when Poe came back from the house. “Hey. Is Kaydel okay? Just her ankle, right?”

Poe flinched. “Yeah, she’s okay. No thanks to me. I should’ve been paying better attention.”

Snap stared at him. “Dude, are you kidding? You’re the reason it’s just her ankle. That was a nice catch you made.” He chuckled. “And by ‘catch’, I mean impersonating a landing strip.”

Poe looked at BB-8. “And who was it exactly who said this was WAR and he WOULD get this thing running? And by ‘running’, apparently, he meant ‘on fire’, right?” BB-8 emitted a series of staccato beeps both of them knew were laughter.

Snap waved an arm to indicate the picker. “Hey, I did win the war. The enemy is no more. The conditions of surrender were just a little different than they were supposed to be. Records are written by the winners, right? No one will know any different. “ They were both laughing. Good, he thought, the flinchy parts were getting fewer and farther between.

“I got the repulsors working, but the engine’s toast. Help me move this thing?” They both put their backs into it and managed to wrestle it back under cover.

“You put everything out, right?” Poe looked around the orchard. “I don’t want it spreading.” He looked over to that same tree. What was so important about it?

“Yeah, man, I got it all. Like I’d leave your dad’s orchards on fire. Okay, I give up.” He shrugged. “Show me this tree of yours.”

Poe blinked at him. “What?”

“There’s got to be something about it. That’s where you were. Kaydel said there’s something about it, too. And it was _glowing_. I don’t go in for much mystical stuff, but that was a little weird. You were worried about it right now, weren’t you? Anyway, I’ve been here loads of times, and I’ve never...met. Her?” He raised an eyebrow at Poe.

He nodded. “Her. Okay. No laughing. She’s...something else, all her own. She’s Force sensitive. It means she’s something more, I guess. And yeah. I burned her once before, and I won’t let that happen again.” He changed direction. “Come on, then.”

A few minutes later they were both standing in front of the tree. “I don’t know, Poe, she looks pretty normal to me. I mean, it’s a tree. Trunk, leaves, branches, roots…” He waved at the tree. “Normal.”

Poe held up his hands. “I know, I know. Just...say hello. Put your hand on her. Hey, _you_ asked.”

Fair enough. He stepped forward and laid a hand on the trunk. Nothing. Mystical Force stuff just...it wasn’t his thing. “Um. Hello.” This was ridiculous. He was talking to a tree. But…

“Remember how you told me you carry the personality code for Mister Bones with you into every fight? For good luck? Because he’d been there for you. Well, she’s always been here when I needed her. I mean, she’s no battle droid, but I grew up with her, and she’s part of me.” Poe patted the trunk. “Maybe why I came here.”

Huh. That he could understand. The people who were there for you weren’t always...people, necessarily, not like you understood people. Mister Bones had gotten him through some tough times. From the look of it when they got here, maybe this tree...she...had done the same for Poe. “All right. I give. Thanks. He needs all the help he can get, this one.” He elbowed Poe, who gave him a sour look. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s get on the outside of dinner. Besides, don’t we still have brandy to make? Oh, you thought I wasn't serious. Fool.” He gave Poe a good shove down the path to the house. Enough of this mystical stuff. Bantha fodder.

They noticed a couple of things when they got back to the house. Kaydel’s hair was wet. He thought she was wearing different clothes, too. One of the old walking sticks that were stored in the hallway (he thought they were from when Poe’s mom got sick) was tucked in next to the armchair. There were damp spots on the carpet. And Kaydel was fast asleep, curled up small in the chair except for her injured ankle, propped up again on the stool.

“I told her not to move. She could’ve hurt herself again.” Poe shook his head.

Really? This was going to be interesting . “Hey, I think she had the right idea. I smell like barbecued relays, and you are just indescribable. Anyway, she’s a grown woman. She can do what she wants. It’s not like she was gonna let _you_ give her a bath. I’ll start something for dinner when *I’m* clean.” He stayed just long enough to register Poe’s face turning red again before he walked off down the hall. Shot landed. Yeah, keep thinking, buddy.

...

 

She was still asleep when Poe got back from cleaning himself up for dinner. That chair was comfortable, but not THAT comfortable. So he picked her up and carried her down the hall to her room. She must be tired. She didn’t even wake up, just sort of sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. He stood there for a few minutes before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Right. The ankle didn’t look too bad, he thought. He put her in bed, drew a blanket over her and turned out the light. It was only fair. She’d done the same for him.

Snap was cooking something that smelled fantastic when he got back to the kitchen. He and BB-8 were trying to figure out what had gone wrong with the koyo-picker, from the sound of it. They seemed to think the wiring had just flat out disintegrated, between the age of the machine and the number of times it had been re-rigged and repaired.

Snap quirked an eyebrow at the chair. BB-8 chimed in with a low, interrogative whistle.

Poe shrugged. “If she was going to sleep through dinner anyway, she might as well be in bed.”

Snap nodded. “Long day. I’m beat, too, and I wasn’t even climbing trees. Sit. This’ll be ready in no time.”

Poe couldn’t suppress a wince. He’d be all over bruises tomorrow. Note to self: catching someone falling from a height was harder than it looked.

They fell on the food like they were starving. Frankly it could have been gundark-leather and he’d have eaten it anyway, but Snap was a damn good cook.

When Poe looked up from his plate, Snap was pointing a piece of bread thoughtfully at him. “Kaydel’s gonna be starving by the time she’s awake. You, my friend, are making breakfast.”

“I’m what? Snap…” He spread his hands.

“Yeah, I know, you’re hopeless. Figure it out. It’s the doing something that matters, not how well you do it. Like I said earlier, you owe her a thank you. Me? I’m used to putting up with you. Hell, it’s practically my job. This is new for Kaydel, though. And...you should bring it to her. That’s the kind of thanks you’re looking for. Trust me. Besides, I’m sleeping in tomorrow. You don’t even have to bring me breakfast in bed.” Snap fluttered his eyelashes at Poe and laughed. “You’re welcome.” He grinned. “Then when we’re all awake and fed, we can bust out the still.”

Poe shook his head. “You are not going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance. And you said L’ulo helped? A chance to show up your dad AND L’ulo. What could be better? Think of the possibilities here. We can drink a toast to L’ulo, leave a bottle for your dad with a ribbon on it. I will personally give one to the General. Hell, we could be drinking this stuff at a wedding. Maybe yours. Who knows?” The bread waved wildly as he described the possibilities.

Poe pushed back his chair. “Okay, I surrender. Please notice I’m doing the dishes on my own recognizance this time.”

Snap clapped at him. Slowly. “Careful. We wouldn’t want you getting all civilized and responsible.” He stood up, yawning. “That’s me. Good night.” He waved and ambled off down the hall.

Poe looked at BB-8. “So who’s going to help with breakfast in the morning? You?” He got a skeptical whistle and an unmistakable laugh for his trouble. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Well, if he were going to give it a whirl, it was time to finish the dishes and head to bed himself.

…

Kaydel blinked awake. Sunlight was streaming in through the window. On the wrong side of the house. She’d slept all the way through to morning. Wait. She’d fallen asleep in the chair. Wow. Okay. She HAD been tired. Kind of a shame, assuming Poe had been her transportation again. She smiled to herself.

She was sitting in bed brushing her hair when she heard the knock. She’d braided it up wet to get it out of her way last night, but figured she’d better take care of it properly soon or it would be a tangled mess.

“Go ahead, come in”, she called.

She couldn’t figure out the awkward rattle of the doorknob until Poe came in. With a tray. OH. That was a nice sight. He smiled at her. That was even nicer. Oof, get a grip. She hoped her cheeks weren’t turning too pink.

“Morning. You feeling better? Your ankle, I mean.” He set the tray on the bed in front of her and pulled up the chair from the desk.

“Much better. It hurts, but I don’t think it’s bad. Most of me landed on you, so, um, thanks.” Yup, change of subject. “What’s all this? You didn’t have to do this.” She waved a hand at the tray. Eggs, toast, bacon, and caf. He’d really gone all out on this. Smelled fantastic. So did the breakfast. Oh, boy.

“That’s the thing, though, I did. Look, Snap and I go back a long way. He’s family, really, and we’ve hauled each other out of plenty of stupid places. So his showing up here wasn’t really a surprise. Go on, eat, while it’s still warm.” Kaydel picked up the fork and dug into the eggs. And bit into a piece of shell. She schooled her face _very_ carefully, tucked the piece of shell to one side of her mouth, and kept chewing. She’d never tell. Death first. She wished he’d stop looking at her for a minute, though.

“But you’ve been a big help, and you didn’t have to be. And I wanted to say thank you. It was really nice of you to come and help me out of a jam. Oh! I knew I forgot something. I’ll be right back!” He held up a finger, then dashed out of the room. Thank the stars. She quickly picked the remaining bits of shell out of the eggs, spat out the one in her mouth, and...there was no help for it...stuck them under the pillow. The rest of the eggs weren’t bad otherwise, considering. She was working her way through them when he stepped back into the room and handed her the jar of koyo jam.

Oh. She knew what that meant, what it probably took for him to do that. But she wasn’t sure she was supposed to know, so she just smiled. His fingers were warm on hers as she took the jar. Had she lingered too long? Who knew. But they were both smiling.

They talked, about nothing important, while she ate. He told her Snap was dead set on trying to distill brandy later, and just shook his head. He’d burnt the toast, she could tell; but he’d also taken the time to scrape off the burnt parts. Oddly, the bacon was perfect and he made a mean cup of caf. Of course. Pilots lived on caffeine. Overall, she thought it was the nicest breakfast she’d ever had.

…

He took the dishes with him when she was finished. Kaydel said she’d meet him in the living room in a few minutes. She politely refused his offer to help her get there, saying she’d better trying walking on her ankle before it stiffened up too much.

Shame. He’d have enjoyed helping her again. It was the first time he’d seen her with her hair down out of those braids she wore. It was a good look, especially when she brushed it out of her face. Wait, stop. _Kriff_ , this was confusing. Shouldn’t he be trying to get his head on straight and get back to work? Instead, he was entertaining thoughts he had no right to have. She didn’t need that kind of trouble. Still...she’d looked pretty damn adorable, out there in the sun, smiling up at him from under that ridiculous hat. And felt damn good curled up in his arms. Oh, man. Dishes, Poe. Go do the dishes.

…

Snap spent most of the morning trying not to laugh. Kaydel was checking out last known locations for some of the Resistance allies on her datapad (probably not a bad idea, they did need to work on their actual mission too). Poe and BB-8 were debating the merits of trying to replace the wiring in the damn picker (stars knew they weren’t going to be able to repair it again). But they kept sneaking glances at each other whenever the other one wasn’t looking. Yep. He smothered a chuckle in his mug of caf. This was gonna be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That boy hasn't got a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to flypaper_brain for this challenge, which was more fun than I expected. I hope I did right by poor Poe. Of COURSE Snap Wexley is the guy you'd want picking you up off the floor after you'd done a dumb. And C'ai Threnalli is the perfect wingman.
> 
> I tried to fit the story in between the fence rails of canon because for now it distresses me to do otherwise for some reason. So I haven't changed anyone's fate, at least not yet.


End file.
